Julio Peralta-Paulino

Gala in Pastel Oasis A fable for Natalia Pages Solis Once upon a sweet springtime, I sat with the Princess of the Softest Touch. It was deep inside the Mojave desert. A patch of land that must have looked like a funny mustache from the eyes of heaven. It was rumored that from that fuzzy little place one could hear the songs of the shooting stars. I was her Highness's button keeper. My father and his father before him had been keepers of royal buttons. Rarely did the royals venture into the Hard Touch lands, but the strong-willed Princess of the Softest Touch had heard the rumor and I agreed to accompany her. Yes, I was curious about the fading songs of shooting stars, but I felt a stronger obligation to keep her Highness from any harm. I locked the buttons within my charge inside the diamond chamber (where no one would dare to pry with a thieving hand). The Princess arranged herself and prepared to steal away at the hour when the evening divides the day. Minutes before midnight, I was already prepared and waiting by the Cypress trees beyond the French gates and Spanish towers. The Princess dressed in handmaiden's clothes and walked the Mandarin path with quick, decided steps. I bowed when she neared. "None of that," she whispered, "come, let's away, my Button Keeper." "Yes, my Princess." I responded and we rushed into the Land of Owls and Fireflies. "Are they fairies?" She questioned. "No, they are beetles with lights," I responded nearly out of breath. "Beetles with lights!" She averred, "How spectacular." "Yes," I said into the dark breeze as I made a note to be more watchful for it was her first time beyond the Softest Touch. As we passed an ancient blue Owl with eyes of emerald, she smiled as it turned its head and seemed to tuck its belly in… I had seen it many times, as I often journeyed in search of buttoning materials for the royal family. To myself, it felt I was passing an old friend. "The carriage is not far now, your Highness," I reported. "It would be good to have a drink against the mounting thirst, when we reach the horses." She said looking back at the owl. I saw her stumble, but I could not react. A stone under a leaf made her step slide. I grabbed her arm, but her knee had already hit the ground. I felt ashamed for not protecting her better. "There is no excuse for my negligence, my Princess." "Worry not, dear Keeper, it was simply my curiosity that caused this faltering and if there be a bruise it will not be significant." We continued walking, both a bit slower and more aware of the uneven ground. "There," I exclaimed, pointing at the carriage. "Lovely," she responded, "it should not be long now." I handed her a canteen that had been filled with water from the Yes and No Mountains. My own canteen had only water from the Maybe Mountains. "Thank you," she drank without greed and swiftly climbed into the carriage. The horses sighed, tired of waiting and usually asleep and dreaming of green fields at this hour. I touched Wax, the stallion, on the neck to make sure he knew it was time for our adventure. He turned to Flame, the mare, and gave her the good word in their unpretentious tongue. The ride was smoother than I expected and the dark breeze did not give way to thunder. Once or twice, when the horses urged each other on during flat stretches of road, the Princess held my arm for balance. I must have beamed with pride, to have a Princess hold my arm for balance! The place of rumor was called Pastel Oasis and as we crossed deeper into the sands I thought I could see a glimmer of it. I waited for as long as I could before turning to her Highness with any report, but it continued to be clearer and clearer under the yellow moonlight that is common to the middle days of March in these lands. "There, your Highness," I said still beaming with pride, "it's just beyond that curve." "So very soon, these horses are to be commended for their cleverness," she said with a different type of pride. The kind that one feels when one is near a goal. There was still two mystery hours left before any sign of the sun's rise. A good chance yet for shooting stars. We left the carriage a few hundred steps away from Pastel Oasis. My steps in the sand felt like dancing to an unpracticed band. Before long, I felt the crush of a different pasture. Grass. Crisp like a cloud in the sky. "Slowly," whispered the Princess as if we were in a holy place. "Yes, your Highness," I obeyed and unhurried my walking. When we reached the Sunflowers, she caressed them with her royal hands. "Can you hear them, can you hear?" She asked. "I can only hear the breeze and the easy rattle of our steps, my Princess." "They are telling me such wonderful, inviting words… It's so very magical." I did not know what to say and so I said nothing and waited and watched as she lay down between all the many Sunflowers. A shooting star appeared and I thought I could hear some melody, but it was only my own wishing. I sat down, not too near and not too far. Meanwhile, the Princess of the Softest Touch held one hand to the flowers and the other upon her chest as if to keep within her heart those wonderful, inviting words and the songs that came shimmering from the sky through shooting stars. The moon was turning color and the purple in the horizon foretold the sun. She rose and started humming the prettiest song mine ears had ever heard. I was glad to be the only audience, as we headed back to Wax and Flame. We didn't speak again that morning, allowing the song to play within our souls. She smiled at me before we parted to our usual day. I recovered the buttons from the Diamond Vault and kept the memory of that journey nearest to my heart. It is a secret and I expect you to keep it so. For if one sweet springtime day you find yourself in search of a magical place, remember to listen and if you listen (even if you hear not the notes) you will share in the song that is playing for all when shooting stars and a chorus of sunflowers do speak their rhyme.

Home